Chapter Two
I grunt as a bead of sweat rolls down the side of my face.
My hands are scuffed and cut.
I’m exhausted already, but someone has to pull the roots out of the fucking yard, and these goddamn kids can’t be bothered to pull their own weight.
The oubliette is one of my favorite things around this property, so I like to make sure that the grounds around it are always in pristine condition.
I don’t know.
I guess something about the way they react to seeing me near it also starts a small fire inside of me.
It kindles and laps at my soul until I’m ready to remind them that they’re my children and will do as their told or spend as many fucking days and nights as I see fit in the deep, dark hole.
Maybe I’ll have them go down there and scrape their mother out, I think with a final grunt as I manage to finally pull one of the rotten roots out of the ground.
Tossing it aside, I use my forearm to wipe my brow before I glance toward the back door of my home.
They still haven’t managed to come outside and ask me if I want or need help. They more than likely haven’t even left their fucking room, but that’s fine.
If they want to start in the place they sleep in, that’s fine with me. They’ll have the privacy to keep practicing in there until Skylar is swollen with a new Greene child, and then another until I say she’s done.
Richter will never make a good husband for her. He’s too fucking gentle with his sister and he seems more interested in earning her trust than her respect.
He’ll never go far in life, but that’s fine.
His days are numbered whether he knows it or not, and while I don’t plan on getting rid of him anytime soon, eventually he’ll be of even less use to me than he already is.
When that day does come, it will open up a place at the table for any new mouths to feed that Skylar manages to spit out of her rotten, little hole.
I always believed that children should be the pride of any father, but I’ve never felt that toward any of them.
Except for Darby, and even that didn’t last long.
Bitch, I think irritably as I reach down for the bottle of water next to the oubliette. I take a healthy swig, then set the bottle down on the gate covering before I glance at the back door again.
Useless and lazy.
I roll my sore shoulders as I start to make my way back toward the house. It seems that these children aren’t in the mood to start learning anything today and think that’s just fine.
“Move it!” I bark as I slam the back door open.
A gasp is followed by the sound of heavy glass shattering against my kitchen floor, and I turn sharply to the left.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
I walk over to the island in the middle of the room, place one sweaty palm down on it, then put the other on my hip.
Skylar looks absolutely terrified right now and it brings a small smile to my lips.
“What’s got you so busy that you can’t get outside and do some yard work?” I ask her evenly.
She begins to wring her hands nervously as she lowers her eyes to the mess on the floor, then looks back up at me.
“I was making some lemonade.” I arch an eyebrow. “For you,” she finishes quickly.
“Instead of going outside and doing your chores?”